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Updated: May 23, 2025
After all, it's what you'll be doing in real earnest next Thursday." Mrs. Barraclough could almost swear to having seen the smile that dried up those tears that fell a hundred and fifty miles away. "I'll t-try," said a tiny voice. "You are a d-darling." And later in the afternoon the telephone bell rang again sad the same voice, with a brave ring to it, announced "I've got it on." After that Mrs.
I flamed out, indignantly rising; "you intimate that Thurston is a coward and in his absence?" "If he w ere a cow wow-ard h e w wouldn't t-try to m-m-master it; and if he w ere p-present I w wouldn't d-d-dare to d-d-discuss it," was the mollifying reply. This intrepid man, George Thurston, died an ignoble death. The brigade was in camp, with headquarters in a grove of immense trees.
"Speug!" and Nestie spoke with much impressiveness "I have an idea. Why shouldn't the Seminary challenge the 'Bumbees' to a match next s-summer? We could p-practice hard all this summer, and begin s-soon next year and t-try them in July."
S-Spike c-c-clung on to the wheel, and held her on her c-course, and we c-crouched down there, waiting for the old b-brute to b-b-blaze away. But he c-couldn't s-see us, and so there wasn't anyone for him to f-fire at. M-M-Maybe it was all b-b-bluff, b-but we didn't intend to s-stand up and t-try it, I t-tell you' After about t-ten minutes we p-p-peeked over the rail, and they were w-way b-back.
"N-n-no, s-sor, I c-can't, an' the m-more you t-try to make me the w-w-wus I g-gits." "Well, then, come to the point, an' don't say more than's needful." "Y-y-yis, sor." "What's this man's name!" asked the chief, settling the bandages uneasily on his head with one hand, and pointing to Brixton with the other. "M-Muster T-T-Tom, sor." "That's his Christian name, I suppose?"
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